


New Allies and Old Loves

by Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive France/England, Abusive Relationship, Alcohol, Domestic Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Turkey/Greece, Reformed abusive Turkey, abusive Turkey/Greece, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-30
Updated: 2015-04-30
Packaged: 2018-03-26 11:12:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3848812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turkey and France have been allies long enough to become lovers, so when Francois has one of his constant fights with Arthur, he decides to go see someone who might not make all the same comforting noises. </p><p>For his part, Sadik has no way of knowing to expect it and even less does he expect the man he met just after Herakles left him loudly and messily to come to him after a fight over much the same problems with someone else. </p><p>But if nothing else, Sadik is determined not to make the same mistakes again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Allies and Old Loves

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't have a clear timeline in mind but obviously it's after Greek Independence from the Ottoman Empire, but not by very long.
> 
> This is primarily meant to be fluffy hurt/comfort. My apologies for the lack of specific history to attach it to, but I just don't do research for fluff.

Sadık was pouring over letters in his office when he heard the knock at his door. He glanced over the letter once more before putting it into a drawer and went to answer. When he opened the door and saw his caller, he froze.

“François!” he gasped. “What the Hell happened to you?”

“It was nothing, mon ami.” François smiled, even though it had to hurt: half his face was purple with bruises, one eyebrow split. He was cradling his right arm like it was broken, although he was wearing long sleeves so Sadık couldn't see how bad it really was. “I just want to come in, please?”

Sadık immediately stepped out of the way. “Yeah, sure. Shit. Who hurt you?”

François ducked past him. “It is nothing,” he said. “Mon cher, do you have water and maybe something for the pain?”

Sadık ducked into the kitchen for both, finding only a dusty bottle of alcohol for the latter. He came back out and eyed François' arm before going back to the closet for cloth and a splint. “Do you want this for your arm? I can't tell if you're healing fast enough to need it or not.”

François smiled beautifully at him again and Sadık's heart clenched. “That would be wonderful, of course.” He sank further back into his seat and sighed loudly. “Ahh, I did not expect it to go so badly.”

Sadık gave him a worried look and François cleared his face to smile at him again. Sadık winced as the split in François' eyebrow opened again and bled. 

“You don't have to keep smiling at me like that, shit,” he said. “That has to hurt. Your face is black and blue.”

François' smile relaxed some. “I do not want you to think less of me for a little fight.”

“Why would I think less of you?” Sadık muffled a curse and reached up from pouring him a glass of water and alcohol both to stroke his hair. “Don't be ridiculous. Who beat the shit out of you?”

“It's nothing, really!” François laughed softly. He caught Sadık's wrist and pressed a kiss into his palm. “I do not want you to worry, you are a wonderful person who is doing so well. I do not wish things to go worse for us because I was a fool.”

“How could I make things worse?” Sadık asked. He shivered at the kiss to his palm, enjoying the attention as much as it worried him. “If someone hurt you, I hope you get the chance to beat them back.”

François raised his eyebrows at him. “You did not seem to think that when it was Herakles and you fighting.”

Sadık flinched from his words and the memories that washed over him. “What?”

“Ah, that does not make sense like that, does it?” François sighed and smiled brightly at him again, and Sadık began to appreciate just how much that smile was faked. “I spoke to Arthur, mon cher. We were discussing our new allies. He was not thrilled to hear I had – how should I say it – gotten along so well with you.”

“You – Arthur did this to you?” Sadık asked. The sick feeling in his stomach grew worse as he remembered screaming at Herakles to stop spending so much time out of his sight. “Because you're seeing me?”

“Non, non!” François waved off his words with his good arm and pressed his hand into his shoulder. “No, I did not say we were seeing each other, or dating, or anything of the sort. I simply wished to retort to his compliments to Japan by paying you the same, you see? I felt it would be fair, to do so.” François' eyes dropped to his lap and he shrugged loosely. “Arthur is just not very fair.”

Sadık stared at him in disbelief. “You don't break someone's arm because they talked back to you!”

“Non?” François asked him. “Did you not do just that?”

Sadık snapped his mouth shut and stared at him, his eyes wide. He clenched his hand on the arm of the chair and dropped his gaze. “Shit. I'm sorry.”

“Oui?” François asked. His body began to relax a little. “For what?”

Sadık laughed bitterly. “I know you're friends with Herakles too. You're right, I did do that. But dammit, I can admit I was wrong now. If you want to ask – someone else for help, I can just get the splint done and you can go, you know?”

François sighed heavily. “Thank you, Sadık. I am more than happy with your help, I know you are trying to do better. I'm sorry I brought this to you door like I did, you shouldn't have to deal with my problems like this.”

“Ya Allah,” Sadık muttered. He picked up the splints and shook his head. “Can you take your shirt off so I can splint it?”

François needed help to get his shirt off, but once it was off it was quick work to splint the break. François' already pale skin went even paler as Sadık manipulated his arm and wrapped it and tied it into a sling close to his body. As soon as that was done, Sadık offered him the alcohol and helped him drink it as François leaned heavily into the chair.

“You look like you should lie down for a bit,” Sadık said. “Do you want to go to my bed?”

François shook his head firmly, his eyes shut. Sadık didn't ask why not.

“You should put something on to stay warm at least. Do you want a robe?”

“Oui?” François smiled tiredly up at him. “Will you sit with me for a little while?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme go get you something.” Sadık went into his room and fetched a warm robe before coming back and holding it out for François. François smiled fondly back at him, his face not moving enough to disrupt his injuries this time.

“I cannot put it on myself. Will you help me?” François asked.

“Yeah, just stand up and I'll get it over your shoulders.”

“And if I said I did not wish to sit in the chair anymore, would you hold me?”

Sadık fought a blush and lost. “Yeah, sure,” he said roughly. “I'll hold you as long as you want me to.”

“Merci.” 

François stood up stiffly and Sadık wondered how much worse the beating had been than he could see. François had bruises up his arms that had been hidden beneath the longer sleeved shirt, but frankly it was none of his business. He draped the robe around François' shoulders and sat in the chair behind him. Sadık ran his hands down François' arms to encourage him to sit against him. His lover did so happily and curled up against his chest. 

Sadık wrapped his arms around him and stroked his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Arthur is always a terror like that,” François said tiredly. “It is fine.”

Sadık was pretty sure that was the definition of 'not fine', but he didn't think François wanted to talk about it. A moment later, François started to shake against him and silently cry. Sadık said nothing, keeping his hand against his hair and hoping that was enough.

He wasn't the person François deserved right now, but he'd be damned if he screwed up again.


End file.
